Reaper's Lullaby

Gus: Intake Day 1

"The abuse of a harmless thing is the essence of sin."
- A.W. Tozer

Gus was escorted in the back of a police car to Oasis Ranch the next day, his hands cuffed behind his back. The drive took a good three hours out into the desert.

Margaret had packed him a bag containing a few articles of clothing and other basic necessities. She'd hugged him, wished him luck and told him to contact her anytime, even after he turned eighteen. Gus knew he wouldn't, but it did kinda make him sad to see her go. Having an ally wasn't always guaranteed in the foster system. But goodbyes were expected. He was always saying goodbye.

"These cuffs really hurt, dude," Gus said to the officer sitting beside him, a beefy, stoic looking black man.

The officer ignored him.

"Okay, these cuffs really hurt, sir?" he said hopefully.

"Officer? Mister Sir? Mister? Miss? Missus? Ma'am? Look, I don't judge, okay?"

The officer sighed. "Shut up, kid," he said in a deep voice.

"Can't you uncuff me or somethin'? My arms ache. What's the worst that could happen? Am I gonna roll out the damn car like The fuckin' Rock? We're goin' eighty easy. I'd be road kill. You think I'm that desperate to get out of goin' to rehab? Well I ain't. So can you help me out or what?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"How close?"

"No."

"For a cop you don't have much of a vocabuh-lary."

"No."

Gus sighed and shifted forward. It was another thirty minutes before they arrived at their destination.

Oasis Ranch was a sprawling farm that had claimed acres and acres of rare green land in the middle of the desert. Cows and horses grazed in the fields while chickens roamed the fenced yard in front of the quintessential red barn. The green stuck out against the brown desert background like a mistake with a paintbrush. Gus stared wide-eyed at the horses and cows in the pastures. He had never seen either in real life.

They drove around the pastures to a white house with a wraparound front porch lined with rocking chairs. It was the biggest house Gus had ever seen, stretching back and out in all directions.

"Look alive, kid. We're here," said the officer.

"Thank God," Gus mumbled.

"Now you can bug someone else," the officer said as he opened the door for Gus to get out.

Once the cops escorted him inside, Gus realized that the house was just a front for an interior similar to a doctor's office. There was a desk in a room with gray carpet, bright circle rugs and soft lamplight.

They released his hands from the cuffs. Gus gasped with relief, rubbing and cracking his knuckles as he took in his surroundings, pausing at each door. There were the doors behind him, a door behind the front desk and a door to his right. He always needed to know his escape routes.

"Welcome, Gus. My name is Alissa. We've been expecting you," said a young blond woman sitting at the front desk.

She walked forward and extended her hand. Gus shook it, feeling warm all over. This woman was gorgeous.

The familiar rush of meth-induced infatuation sent his brain flying. He'd smoked his last hit of Crystal this morning, but he'd hidden a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his shoe that he hoped they wouldn't find.